


Demons

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s04e23 Demons, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: After the events in "Demons", Scully takes care of Mulder.





	Demons

Even after, even now, Mulder refuses to go to a hospital. Red and blue police lights immerse him and Scully in an eerie light as they step out of the house. Scully keeps her hand on his back and doesn’t let anyone near him, not without her there right by side. She promises that they’ll give a statement in the morning, assures them that she is fine and Mulder will be, too. That, however, remains to be seen. Not that she’s going to admit that to anyone, not here.

“I’m a medical doctor,” Scully says to the police officer in charge, “I’ll take care of him.” Mulder lets himself be maneuvered by her. As Scully gently tips his head to help him into the car, she feels her own head start to throb. She hasn’t had time to think of herself in hours. She hasn’t been drinking enough water and she can’t remember when she last ate. They will need to figure something out. First she’ll need to make sure Mulder is safe, though, away from here, and his demons. Looking at him through the car window, his glance empty, she knows she can’t save him. Not from that. No matter how far she’ll drive, or how fast. Their demons will follow.

He gets sick ten minutes later. He barks at her to stop the car and Scully is so startled that she hits the brakes and brings the car to a screeching halt. Mulder rips open the door and empties his stomach onto the dark, deserted road. Just as Scully is about to get out herself, make sure Mulder is fit to go on, he turns in his seat. 

“Sorry.” His voice is strained and raspy. He refuses to look at her, remains stoic. 

“I’m sure we’ll find a place we can stay for the night soon,” Scully assures him and herself. She glances over at him before she starts the car again. Another five minutes of driving and the sign for a Bed & Breakfast finally comes into view. The parking lot is deserted; a good sign. It’s a small, lovely looking place. Scully helps Mulder out of the car and he trots to the entrance beside her like an old, loyal dog. 

“Good evening,” an elderly lady greets them as they step inside, a big grin on her face. She probably thinks they’re a couple lost, or a couple looking for a few romantic hours alone. If only that were true. 

“Good evening,” Scully replies with a forced smile, “we’d like a room, please.” There is no way she is leaving Mulder out of her sight for even a second tonight. He might get sick again, have another seizure or worse: he’s going to ditch her again. Still, she blushes as she makes the request for one room. By her side, Mulder is quiet and seems unfazed. He doesn’t make a remark, no joke, no nothing. 

“Here you go,” she is handed a big key with a fluffy, pink heart dangling from it, “would you like to pay now or when you check out?” Scully hands over her credit card without a single word. She’s not going to have the Bureau pay for this. This is on them. Or on her. It doesn’t matter, not anymore. It’s just money after all. Scully pinches the bridge of her nose and wills her own headache away. Mulder shuffles behind her, steps closer so that she feels his warmth against her back. But he just stands there and doesn’t say a word. Scully is too tired now to analyze it, or even care. 

The room is small, but clean. The queen-size bed takes up most of it. There is no armchair, no cot and no couch. Not that Scully expected any of these things. This is her doing, her choice. Mulder lies down on the bed, draws his knees up to his chest like a scared, exhausted child. 

“Mulder, don’t you want to…”. But she trails off. She is not going to tell him to change into different, more comfortable clothes. She doesn’t care. Scully takes off her blazer, opens a few buttons on her blouse. Just to breathe more easily. She eyes Mulder and makes sure he pays her no attention. He doesn’t. The cap from the pill bottles is loud as it pops open. The small, blue tablets rattle against the plastic as Scully picks two, puts them on her tongue and downs them with tepid water. She takes off her shoes and joins Mulder on the bed, sitting there with her back against the soft headboard. This is not the first time they’ve shared a bed. It’s the first time that Mulder hasn’t commented on it, though. She stares at his back, the contours of his muscles straining against the cotton of his shirt. 

“Mulder,” she mumbles, whispers. Just in case he’s fallen asleep. To her surprise, he rolls around, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. He crawls towards her and puts his head in her lap. He’s warm, and for a moment she thinks he might be too warm, developing a fever. Her hand tangles in his hair and he sighs deeply sounds almost content. He snuggles deeper into her, his cheek resting on her thigh. None of this feels strange, or wrong. For the first time this weekend time stands still and everything feels just right.

“I’m sorry, Scully,” Mulder murmurs against her, “It’s your turn next time.”

“What are you talking about?” She smoothes down a stubborn lock of hair and marvels how soft it is. Her fingernails scrape his scalp and there’s the tiny bump, his puncture wound. She gently runs over it with her fingertip. Mulder doesn’t startle or stir. A sign that he’s healing, she hopes. 

“It’s always me. You always have to take care me.”

“It’s fine, Mulder,” Scully assures him as the pressure in her forehead intensifies for a short moment. A sharp pain that lasts less than a second. She closes her eyes briefly and concentrates on the solid feel of Mulder under her fingers, against her body. The pain subsides as it always does. She’s used to it by now. It will get worse sooner rather than later. But not tonight.

“It’s not.” His voice is equally tired and stubborn. “Next time it’s you.” Scully swallows. Next time. She doesn’t want to think about it, about next time. Hospitals. Endless tests. No chance to return home. She swallows again, this time with more difficulty. 

“Even if it’s a cold, Scully,” Mulder goes on, unaware of the thoughts in her head, her own insistent demons, “or a hangover. I’ll be there. I will be. Next time.” He’d be there for her now, she knows it. She is the one pushing away again and again. Every time her nose bleeds, every time her vision turns dark, she tells Mulder she’s fine. She’s not. He knows it, too. But he respects it. Waits for her to make a move, to let him in. Scully is not there yet. This, comforting him, being there for him, that’s what she knows. This is what she can do.

“You’re delirious,” Scully whispers with the smallest hint of a smile. It disappears quickly as she realizes that there will be no next time. Not for her. The next time she’ll be dying. Nothing he can do. Nothing anyone can do. She’s waited too long.

“Am not. Am sorry, Scully. Really am. Should have… shouldn’t have.” She continues to run her fingers through his hair, calming him and herself. No, she thinks, he shouldn’t have. Who is going to be there next time he decides to drill a hole in his head? Who is going to find him, stop him? 

“It’s okay, Mulder. Try to sleep now. You need sleep.”

“What about you?” He asks as he gets more comfortable in her lap. In the morning, she is sure of it, he will have forgotten all of it. Seeking her out like this, apologizing. He’ll go on, sprint towards elusive answers not caring what gets in his way, whether he hurts himself or others.

“I’ll sleep too,” she promises him, “in a little while. Close your eyes.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Mulder turns his head and looks up at her. There are shadows of the tears he’s shed under his eyes. Scully touches him there, wishes she could wipe the memories away, make his demons be gone. They’ll haunt him long after she’s left him. But she can give him tonight and so she nods.

“I promise.” Mulder closes his eyes and she puts her hand back into his hair, needing the contact. Soon her own eyes grow heavy and she lets them drift close hoping that neither of them will have nightmares, at least not tonight.


End file.
